


the distraction

by bleep0bleep



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Olympics, Athlete Derek, Athlete Stiles Stilinski, Fluff, M/M, Olympics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-30
Updated: 2018-04-30
Packaged: 2019-04-30 01:22:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14485716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bleep0bleep/pseuds/bleep0bleep
Summary: Derek stares flatly at the huge bin of condoms in the health center they had set up in the Olympic Village. Their shiny foil packets glisten, as if they’re mocking him.A almost has-been, a young hopeful, and too much protection.





	the distraction

**Author's Note:**

> *shows up two months late to the olympics with a fic* 
> 
> I wrote this during the actual Olympics and then fell behind at work and then forgot about it, then remembered it. Thank you to M and P for all the betaing and help. <3

 

Derek stares flatly at the huge bin of condoms in the health center they had set up in the Olympic Village. Their shiny foil packets glisten, as if they’re mocking him.

“Go on, take some, we’ve got plenty,” the aide says, not even looking up from her clipboard.

“No thanks,” Derek says, fighting the blush rushing to his cheeks. He knows the reputation the Village has, and the reason why the athletes are provided with so much… protection. Derek takes a step back. A large step. It’s been so long since he’s even thought about being intimate with someone that the colossal amount of condoms even being _present_ here is terrifying.

“Ooh, don’t mind me,” Laura says, grabbing a handful and sweeping them into her purse. “Do you have dental dams, too?”

The aide— a pretty brunette— looks up, as if seeing Laura for the first time, and winks at her. “Over here.”

Derek rolls his eyes at his sister, but he steps aside and lets her get her flirt on. It’s not like she has everything on the line like he does; Laura already qualified for the curling semifinals.

He hangs back, trying not to let the crowds of athletes and their guests milling about the center overwhelm him. Maybe he should just go back to his room. No, he’d only end up watching interviews again and he’d get nervous, overthinking it, and he can’t overthink the slopes right now. It’s skiing. Derek lives for this— the rush, the speed, the jumps. He’s great at it.

He tries out a new sports drink, picks up some free swag, and then with relief actually spots someone he knows. Derek chats with Boyd for a bit before he has to go meet with his coach, and then Derek’s alone again.

Laura would be disappointed. The whole reason they even came to the health center and the adjoining community area was for Derek to try and do something social, take his mind off training. But meeting new people always makes Derek nervous. Plus, catching up with Boyd was good; Derek’s happy he’s here with the American hockey team.

A little voice in the back of his head says if he’d qualified last year, he would know more people. But as is, Derek can barely place anyone.

_I haven’t been away that long,_ he tells himself.

“Eight years,” Laura says, joining him at his side and giving him a pointed look.

“What? I didn’t say anything.”

“Your face did. You’ve been here, what, all of an hour and already you’re dwelling on what happened last time,” Laura says. “No one will care. It happened _eight years ago._ ”

“I care,” Derek mutters.

“That’s like, a whole human being that could have been born and like, is in third grade already.”

“Don’t remind me,” Derek says. He already feels old, surrounded by the brightness of youth and the eager twinkle in almost everyone’s eyes he sees here. At thirty-two, he feels ancient. He feels so self-conscious; he knows his beard is starting to gray already, and that if he doesn’t medal this year, he’s pretty sure he never will. This is his last chance.

“You’re lucky YouTube hadn’t really taken off yet or like, nobody giffed your epic fail, otherwise you would have been immortalized forever, people playing that moment over and over and over…”

Derek glares at her. “Is this supposed to make me feel better?”

“Laura Hale! Over here!” A reporter eagerly waves at Laura, microphone bobbing. “Do you have any tips as a three-time gold medalist for any young athletes out there?”

Derek watches his sister for a minute in the spotlight, and then turns and pushes past the throng of people. He can just put on a movie and try to get some sleep, rest up for the big day tomorrow.

Now, where was that exit? There are so many reporters and bright lights, this is so confusing—

Oh.

A man steps in front of one of the lights, his head turned back slightly, deep in conversation. He throws his whole head back in laughter, filled with joy, and light falls upon his face, illuminating him— or is he illuminating the room? The long column of his bare throat makes Derek catch his breath. He’s beautiful.

Derek pauses, watching the man ruffle his hair as the reporters turn on him and start bombarding him with questions.

“Stiles Stilinski! Back for more? We thought for sure you would have retired after your last gold!”

The strange name suits him, Derek decides.

Stiles winks at the camera. “Can’t keep me away from the slopes,” he says.

Slopes? Is he a skier? Competing against Derek tomorrow?

Derek’s heart pounds with nerves. It would be just like him to immediately be attracted to a rival. He should learn from his past mistakes— he should shut this crush down before—

The reporter turns back to the camera and starts speaking intently. “The US snowboarding team has many talented athletes this year…”

Oh, okay. But still. Derek can’t afford the distraction.

 

* * *

 

The next morning Derek’s alarm promptly goes off at five, and he gets up, ready to start his day, despite the fact that his event isn’t until the afternoon. He goes for a jog, then eats a light breakfast, and gets in some strength training before hitting the slopes for a warmup.

The practice slope is free of reporters and any onlookers, and with the first burst of cold air on his face and the gleam of the snow Derek is reminded how much he loves skiing. There aren’t too many people on this run; he waves to a few Canadians he recognizes and does a run by himself, enjoying the wind on his face as he races down the mountain.

He’s breathless as he glides back to the lift, and immediately gets on the chair again.

“Hold it, I’m almost there!”

A bundled-up snowboarder careens directly at him, and Derek scowls at how reckless it is; they’re lucky this isn’t a crowded run and there isn’t really a danger here, but still.

The chair attendant holds the lift until the snowboarder joins Derek on the chair, and then they’re up in the air, moving silently over the glistening trails. The wind rustles through the snow-laden trees and for a brief second, Derek appreciates the silence.

And then it’s broken.

“How’s it going? Practice going all right? You haven’t been down the Omega run, have you? Someone told me there were jumps I could practice on there but I haven’t seen any.”

Derek rolls his eyes. He hopes the snowboarder isn’t going to talk the whole time. He’s about to pretend to put in headphones when the snowboarder pulls down his scarf.

Oh. The gorgeous Stiles Stilinski.

Well. Derek is still determined not to be distracted. It’s not like sharing a chair lift means anything, anyway. This will be over in a minute, and then Derek will be left to fantasize about having a conversation with Stiles in his own head, without having to deal with the awkward interaction of the real thing.

“I uh, I only did the Alpha run,” Derek offers. “I didn’t see any jumps, though.”

Stiles makes an affirmative noise and stretches, despite the fact that these particular chair lifts don’t have a guard rail, and he’s being rather nonchalant about sitting a hundred feet in the air, stretching his long limbs like a cat.

Derek is hyperaware of how Stiles’ arm is lingering on the back of the chair, almost touching him.

“You excited? Your event’s up today, right?” Stiles nods at him companionably.

“Yeah. Nervous.”

Stiles grins at him, wide and sunny, clicking his other foot onto his snowboard. “That’s cool. Just have fun with it— speaking of fun— here we go!”

As the lift reaches the top of the slope, Stiles immediately pushes off, racing down the mountain, whooping excitedly as he careens a bit too close to a tree, then does a last minute turn at breakneck speed and continues on. “Come on, race you to the bottom— what was your name?”

“It’s Derek!”  Derek calls out, laughing in spite of himself as he pushes off, chasing Stiles.

It’s a wild flurry, more exciting than any run Derek’s ever done before. Chasing Stiles’ bright orange and blue puffy jacket and his taunts, Derek forgets about the cold, biting winds or the nerves in his stomach about his event later, and even cracks a few jokes back, surprising himself.

“Having fun?” Stiles teases him, calling back.

Derek is surprised that he is. He hasn’t relaxed like this in a long while, but something about Stiles just makes him want to let loose. “Not as much fun as I’ll have when I beat you!” Derek teases right back, swerving in front of Stiles and kicking snow up in his face.

Stiles splutters and laughs and then speeds past him. He makes it to the bottom first, sweeping around on his snowboard in a wide, careless arc and smirks at Derek. “That was great. Let’s go on the Omega run this time and get some jumps in— you do know what those are, right? Or are you just a downhill skier?”

“I can jump,” Derek says testily.

On the lift Stiles chatters again, but Derek finds himself drawn into the conversation as Stiles talks about not knowing what to do now that he’s finished college but he loves snowboarding, and he might as well go for it, right? “I mean, the sponsorships are pretty rad, and I got such a sweet deal that my dad could retire,” Stiles says. “So I’m pretty set, but I’ve got time to figure out what I wanna do other than snowboarding.”

Derek doesn’t even have time to feel jealous that Stiles has made a career for himself at such a young age, and that the world is still wide open for possibility for him. There’s something about the earnest way he talks about his dad and his friends and his dreams that makes him easy to talk to.

“My parents owned a ski lodge, so it was just natural for me to become a skier like them. I mean, aside from my sister, who rebelled and did curling, but that’s still a winter sport… I don’t know, I just feel connected to them,” Derek says, on their third lift ride.

“I totally get it,” Stiles says. “You know, the wind in your face as you fly down the mountain? There’s no other feeling like that,” he says. “I think they’d be proud of you. For trying your best, you know? Not everyone could come back from a fall like that.”

“Oh. You know,” Derek says.

Stiles shrugs. “I didn’t want to tell you I knew who you were in case you were embarrassed, but dude. I’ve been there. You ate it on live TV, but you picked yourself up and kept going. You’re a total inspiration.”

“Oh. Uh, thanks,” Derek says awkwardly.

Somehow Stiles turns the conversation neatly to his musings on winter gear styles, and how he’s sad to see the trend for super puffy jackets go— “You know all those streamlined jackets, like, where’s the puff, my favorite part is that whoosh whoosh when you walk and your arms are doing the thing—”

Stiles demonstrates, waving his arms back and forth, and nearly topples out of the lift, but Derek throws his arm out just in time. He blushes, thinking about how Stiles is practically in his arms, but the chides himself. It’s a practical thing. Stiles won’t think anything of it.

“Oh, thanks, that could have been a nightmare.” Stiles waggles his eyebrows at him. “But this is a really good dream, huh?”

Derek is so stunned by the flirtatious tone that he freezes; his brain seems to shut down all the while screaming simultaneous messages at him to flirt back or say something witty and he’s got nothing, he’s so not good at this and he really wants Stiles to like him and—

Stiles scoots back, his cheeks turning bright red. “I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I uh, I thought we had a good connection going, I mean, you know, the Olympic Village is all about—”

“All about what?” Derek doesn’t remember much the last time  he was here, although eight years ago he’d bombed on the first day and spent the rest of the two weeks sulking in his room.

Stiles claps his hands to his face. “Never mind. I’m sorry, not that I would think that’s all you— I mean, if you were interested I would definitely— I mean, I would love to go on a date, this has been super fun, hanging out with you and all— I— of course you’re not interested. Sorry.”

They’re still a good twenty feet from where the lift ends at the top of the mountain, but Stiles just gives him an embarrassed look and then jumps off the lift.

Derek doesn’t even have time to react; it’s merely a split second where he watches in shock as Stiles gracefully lands on his board in a flurry of snow and then he’s speeding down the mountain without looking behind him.

A good part of Derek’s brain is certainly impressed— he knew people did stunts like this, jumping out of helicopters on their snowboards or skis to get fresh powder at the top of mountains but he’d never even considered it.

“Hey! Are you getting off, or—”

“Oh, fuck—”

Derek barely manages to get off the lift before the chair turns around and heads back. He gets tangled up in his poles and trips over his feet, toppling face first into the snow.

 

* * *

 

Derek doesn’t think about it.

He doesn’t think about the luminous way Stiles’ eyes shine when he talks, or the easy smile he gave Derek or even the way he just sped off without saying goodbye. Then again, it sounded like he just wanted something casual, right? Stiles made a proposition, Derek said no, end of story.

He does one more practice run, then he takes a deep breath and puts on his headphones to get in the zone, and before he knows it, it’s time for his qualifying event.

 Derek concentrates his heartbeat, the crispness in the air, the biting cold on his cheeks, and the world falls away. It’s him and the snow, the reporters and the crowds all a distant murmur.

He’s here for the gold. He’s here to prove himself.

“Next up, returning for the first time in eight years, Derek Hale, who hopes to…”

Derek blocks the announcer from his mind as he starts; he’s a second behind, faltering already, but he catches himself and pushes himself down the slope. Light bounces off the snow, sharp and bright and suddenly Derek is reminded of Stiles’ eyes, the way they danced with mischief as Stiles led Derek on a merry chase down the mountain this morning.

“Having fun?” Stiles’ voice echoes in his mind.

Fun.

Yes, actually, he is— Derek laughs as he rounds a turn, and even grins at a camera as he throws up snow as he speeds through the course. He hasn’t felt this light in ages, and this, this is where his heart is, with this feeling of lightness and joy as he flies down the mountain.

He reaches the end of the course to roaring applause.

 

* * *

 

Derek still can’t believe it. It’s heavier than he thought it would be, and people keep coming up to him to congratulate him on the gold and taking pictures with him. Laura’s grinning at him across the room from where she’s talking with her friends; Boyd’s hanging out with his sister, and Derek is once again alone in a crowd of people.

The Olympic Village is shining with lights and music and everyone is dancing and laughing and talking, and Derek think it’s about time to leave when he spots a figure leaning against a wall, watching the party go on.

“Hey,” Derek says. “So, uh, you ran off earlier—”

“Yeah,” Stiles says, smiling sheepishly. “I figured it was a good way as any to exit the conversation with my dignity intact.”

“You didn’t have to leave so abruptly, as spectacular as it was,” Derek says. “I had a good time on the slopes with you this morning. It was really nice. The run, the flirting…”

Stiles looks up at him. “Oh?”

Derek blushes. “I liked it. I didn’t know how to say that I— I mean, I am interested, in a date, if you still are, you just surprised me and then took off before—”

“Oh.” Stiles’ eyes go wide. “Yeah?”

Derek laughs. Here they are, two world-class athletes, reduced to mere one-word responses. Or maybe he doesn’t even need words. He leans in close, and Stiles steps forward to meet him in a kiss. It feels like its own kind of flying, and the rest of the room seems to melt away.

“Do you want to get out of here?” Derek asks, surprising himself with his boldness.

“Oh? I thought you weren’t about casual sex,” Stiles says, winking goodnaturedly. “Did I change your mind?”

“Oh, I wasn’t thinking it would be casual,” Derek says, taking Stiles’ hand in his own and squeezing it. “I was thinking more along the line of we go back to my room, and I kiss you again, this time without the rest of the Olympic Village watching us, and then I was thinking about very deliberately, very slowly—” Derek lowers his voice, but he barely even gets started when Stiles’ mouth falls open and he starts leading Derek outside immediately.

“If you keep describing everything in explicit detail like that, I don’t think we would make it to your room,” Stiles says, walking even faster.

Derek laughs. “Right,” he says. “And then I was thinking after that, and maybe after a few hours sleep and another—”

“Oh my god why are you walking so slow—”

“Oh— I just realized, I don’t have any condoms—” Derek says, stopping short in his tracks. “Do you think there’s a store open that—”

Stiles stares at him and for a moment; Derek stares back before he remembers where they are. He bursts out laughing the same time Stiles does.

Stiles grins. “I don’t think that’ll be a problem.”

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> In 2010 in the Winter Olympics in Vancouver, the Olympic Village supplied athletes with approximately 100,000 condoms over the course of 17 days. The total number of athletes that year were about 2,600. That’s about 40 condoms per person. 17 days in, they apparently ran out of condoms and had to have [ emergency condoms shipped in.](http://www.cnn.com/2010/LIVING/03/01/condoms.vancouver.olympics/index.html)
> 
>  
> 
> In 2018 a record number of [110,000 condoms](https://www.cbssports.com/olympics/news/athletes-at-the-2018-winter-olympics-are-getting-a-record-number-of-free-condoms/) were distributed in Pyeongchang.
> 
> ~
> 
> Thanks for reading! You can find me on [tumblr](http://bleep0bleep.tumblr.com) and [ twitter](http://twitter.com/bleep0bleep) if you wanna say hi!


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